


Happy Reunions

by tokaku



Category: Shin Megami Tensei: Devil Survivor
Genre: Gen, M/M, demon protagonist AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 08:36:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7567456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tokaku/pseuds/tokaku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before Naoya can complete the summoning program, one faction makes a decisive move and kidnaps his cousin to use him for a summoning. Abel might also have been planning to summon himself, and Naoya has to make a choice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Reunions

**Author's Note:**

> The way this works is there's a reincarnated Abel (Kazuya) in the human world, and another Abel in the underworld. Loki somehow makes this dual body thing work, since if you ever fight him in the game, you can fight him with a Loki summon, so hopefully this would also make sense in this scenario.
> 
> Just in case, I'm warning about nudity and minor original character death.

Atsuro was the one who called him.

Naoya was home at the time, pouring himself some tea. This demanded attention, so he finished pouring before answering his phone without looking at the caller ID. It obviously wasn’t anyone from the Shomonkai; they knew not to call him. He heard breathing over the line, somewhere between pain and a relieved rattle, and then Atsuro’s voice, saying, “Naoya-san.”

Obviously desperate, which is disturbing. Naoya didn’t get to offer a greeting, or tell Atsuro to calm down, before the boy was saying, quickly, “I just felt like you needed to know first, before I call the cops. Kazuya’s been kidnapped.”

The words didn’t make sense at first. They were in one of the safest cities. It’s a school day, but it’s late enough they must already be going home. This was probably one of those times Atsuro and his cousin decided on hitting the arcade, because he didn’t hear Yuzu adding anything in the background about that very unlikely scenario: Kazuya getting kidnapped.

Naoya shook his head and looked at the calendar. He had a timetable to follow. In a few months, he would complete the demon summoning program. Before the angels can make their move and enact a new trial for humanity, Kazuya, Kihara Atsuro, and Tanikawa Yuzu would be receiving their own altered Comps. It was just as simple to give only Kazuya the chance to fight, but with his friends there, he would have more options. They were going to be hostages, too. Kazuya would know he has to participate in the War of Bel if he wanted to protect other people.

Naoya’s plans did not prepare for something absurd like this. But after that brief moment, Naoya didn’t reject the story, asked curtly, “When?”

“Just…just now.” There was a sound; Atsuro likely hitting something metallic. “It’s…there were these weird guys. They said some things, tried to get Kazuya to go with them… I mean, I didn’t get at first what they were trying to pull, and I don’t think Kazuya knew what to make of them either. But then they mentioned you, and—”

Probably not as random as he thought then. If he was mentioned, could it be the Shomonkai, wanting their own hostage? The Maiden had hinted before that she knew about him being Cain, and even if he didn’t broadcast it, he hasn’t tried to hide that little fact either. He found himself relaxing subtly, even as he took his laptop off sleep mode and opened a program. “What about me? And where are you?”

Atsuro stammered his location. Naoya hacked into the cameras near the area, found what he needed, and reviewed what had happened earlier. The kidnapping Atsuro had mentioned was perfectly courteous, at least up until the point where Atsuro tried to stop them by throwing himself bodily against one of the men, and the man punched him in the stomach for the trouble. Atsuro curled around the pain, but looked up in time to see Kazuya being escorted to a car. Kazuya, after only a short glance back to see if Atsuro was okay, went eerily without protest. Atsuro ran after the car for a moment, but it sped up, and there wasn’t much he could do from the sidewalk. Nobody else around seemed to have registered the kidnapping, and a few only looked up when Atsuro opened his mouth wide in a scream of frustration. 

It was a very polite kidnapping. Naoya didn’t spot guns, but they might be there and the men were moving so those weren’t obvious.

Atsuro was explaining something, but Naoya cut in, not apologizing for not listening, “It doesn’t look like a kidnapping. Why do you think it is?”

“Why…?” Atsuro sounded disbelieving. “All right, you probably saw the feed. They were saying things to him. He wouldn’t have gone with them if it wasn’t for those creepy things.”

Naoya continued typing. The plate number from the car is fake, it figured. Facial recognition scans also didn’t turn up anything from the Shomonkai member database. This was a little worrying. Perhaps he should have been more worried about angelic activity, monitored who they told about his identity and Abel’s.

“That line is what the police will tell you, more likely,” Naoya broke gently. Of course, he also had his own motives for needing to keep this quiet. “He looked like he was going willingly, while _you_ looked like a hothead trying to stop someone from going to a nice dinner.”

Atsuro laughed, a little hysterical. “It _was_ a fancy car.”

Moneyed then. That’s something to consider. Money and possible connections to what was going to happen in Tokyo within a few months…

Belphegor. The name entered his mind, and his fingers twitched over the keyboard. Belphegor seduces men with wealth and debauchery. His dual aspect is as a bearded man with horns and a naked woman, and when he does appear, the bearded man is preferable. Supposedly, nobody who wasn’t the summoner has survived the naked woman before.

No…rationally, and calmly. Belphegor has a number of followers among the upper class. Roppongi Hills then. He disconnected Atsuro’s call, and in minutes has found out enough to create a file about them. 

They didn’t consider themselves Belphegor’s servants; more like his avid admirers. The club is surprisingly headquartered in Shinjuku. Many of them have residences in Roppongi, so it’s probably a matter of taking their extravagant hobbies elsewhere. There was a hushed-up murder: A beautiful boy and girl pair whose heads had been exchanged. The stitches have been done expertly with gold thread, everything about the bodies polished and beautiful in the way of prized mannequins. For some reason, though, they didn’t preserve the bodies.

The self-proclaimed leader of the group was supposedly able to communicate with Belphegor, but that’s the only thing Naoya wasn’t sure about. People could claim anything.

Naoya was adjusting the tie of his suit when Atsuro nearly knocked down his door, yelling for him to open up.

“I can’t believe you,” Atsuro said when Naoya has waited for Atsuro to pause before opening the door a cautious few centimeters. “I was just telling you— Wait, you’re going somewhere?”

Atsuro sounded exasperated, a bit betrayed, which meant he thought this business didn’t involve his call earlier. Naoya said, “Very astute. Something came up.”

Atsuro was starting to shake his head at him, but stopped and narrowed his eyes when Naoya opened the door wider and stepped out. Naoya was hoping he wouldn’t remember, but Atsuro’s already made the connection. He had mentioned fancy cars, and now Naoya was wearing his best suit.

“You can’t come along,” Naoya said before Atsuro could open his mouth and make his brave offer. “It’s a very exclusive affair. VIP only. They won’t let you in. More importantly, they won’t let _me_ in if I’m with you.”

“You can be such a jerk, Naoya-san,” Atsuro said with resignation. His parents are well-off, but even Atsuro can’t suddenly buy an expensive suit just to appear presentable. His face had already been seen, too, and Atsuro had factored that in as a reason why him coming along wasn’t a good idea. It really pays to have smart people around you.

“I’m sorry,” Atsuro added quietly. Naoya tilted his head, surprised. “I mean, because I wasn’t able to stop him.”

‘Him,’ not ‘them.’ Which made Naoya think that it was less a kidnapping than his cousin making quite questionable choices. What did Kazuya think he was doing with followers of Belphegor?

…not a very comforting thought. Too many possible answers, too many doubts. It was easier to believe that they’ve deceived him.

He remembered though, uncomfortably, that Atsuro thought they’d said some ‘creepy things.’ “What did they tell him exactly?”

Atsuro paused. “I couldn’t follow everything. Aside from their initial greeting, they used English, so…” Naoya had looked over Kazuya’s studies when they were still living together, so Kazuya’s comprehension skills were certainly good enough. “But they kept repeating some words: brother…” Atsuro stumbled a bit over the pronunciation; Naoya swallowed reflexively. “…demon… Ah, I also caught the word _invitation_. And they mentioned your name near the end. I think that’s what decided it for him.”

Of course. The anger warred against panic, because his _brother_ really knew how to complicate things. 

“All right then.” Too used to eccentricity and no formal good-byes, Atsuro only nodded, slumping against the wall in what seemed to be relief. It’s almost endearing, how these children seemed to think of him as capable of anything. Naoya wished he had that sort of trust in himself.

Brother. Demon. Invitation. Naoya Minegishi.

A rented floor in a Shinjuku building.

Beautiful corpses they took the trouble of creating, only to dispose of them. But before that, of course, there had been signs of use. Wasteful, self-indulgent, and not mindful of other people’s plans. 

They’ll damage him. Too much, too soon. He won’t recover. Or they’ll kill him and… 

_Rationally and calmly,_

Naoya might need to start over. But it would be a different brother, if Kazuya…

_Calmly,_

Just the previous weekend, he had been in Naoya’s apartment. He’d asked predictably about what Naoya was working on, and Naoya had answered promptly, “Translating a summoning ritual into code.” Kazuya had laughed, “What’s that?” And the joke is the joke wasn’t a joke at all, and Kazuya would only realize it later. 

But he’d recalled it too soon. Naoya said he was working on a summoning ritual, and someone else had brought up Naoya and demons, and Kazuya couldn’t dismiss it as a coincidence. Naoya almost kicked himself then, wondering why his limited sense of humor had to work against him now, when it hadn’t before.

Compared to Belphegor’s followers, the Shomonkai are quite tame and honorable. That he could use. He flipped open his phone and called. Azuma answered, feigned pleasure, though his surprise was real enough.

“I’ll come straight to the point: before the war officially starts, you want His Majesty to have fewer competitors, don’t you?”

\--

The doorman and guard didn’t comment about his school uniform. One of the men flanking him produced a card key when they got on a luxury elevator, and the elevator moved even when they didn’t punch in a number. There was soft music playing, but the interval still felt long.

His own song in his music player had ended. It’s the very last song, so he was left listening to nothing. He lifted his hand to choose another song, but the man beside him jumped at the movement, had his hand clamped around Kazuya’s wrist even before he himself seemed to register what he was doing. 

The man apologized quickly though and released him. Kazuya put down his hand instead, and the music stayed dead. For some reason, they didn’t trust him, even when they were the ones who wanted this.

Back in the car, he’d tried calling Naoya. The line was busy. That’s rarely happened before. Naoya always seemed to be awake and connected to his electronics, much in the same way Atsuro was. Naoya rarely called first, but he found time for Kazuya. Except in the summer, when he collapsed in a heap and refused to move on account of the heat. He ate less then, too, which meant coming over constantly to check up on him and make sure he wasn’t dead.

_(He’s not telling you everything. And now he’s in danger. Don’t you want to know about your brother?)_

This whole business was suspicious. But if they were Naoya’s acquaintances, some strangeness was to be expected. They’ve introduced themselves as a foreign pharmaceutical company, to justify the English, but they’ve switched to Japanese in the car. They mustn’t want Atsuro to be involved.

The old man who had introduced himself as ‘Takayuki’ said, “I understand you don’t know much about this world.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, summoning and such.” Takayuki sounded faintly amused. “It’s just like Naoya-sama. Then, has he given you your true name?”

There was a disconcerting moment when he felt fingers clamping down over his ears, a sense of _shutting out_ so strong that it was only the presence of his headphones already somewhat accomplishing that which seemed to ground him. He panicked for a moment he can’t explain, and his instinct was to say something immediately to deny all knowledge, “What are you talking about?”

But what he found himself saying instead is, “He has.”

His brain caught up after. It was better to test it than to claim ignorance. 

Takayuki didn’t question the lie. Rather, after a moment of obvious shock, he inclined his head politely. “Well then, Abel-sama.”

_Abel._

This isn’t familiar, this isn’t familiar, this isn’t familiar.

“We assumed that you two were getting along well in this age, but if that’s not the case, can I ask why Abel-sama decided to come here?”

Best play with the illusion of control. They already seemed wary of him. His wrist still hurt where the bodyguard had gripped too tightly earlier. 

“Curiosity.” He’d heard Naoya deliver a line like that before. Short, simple. Let them come up with their own ideas. He was starting to feel like it’s wrong to have come here, but he can try to deflect any threat. Also, part of him still wanted to find out more about what Naoya was doing, and these people have promised to tell him.

If they assumed he already knows, they wouldn’t be guarding what they say.

“Ah, you want to know what Belphegor-sama plans then.” That’s a new name. Kazuya thought he’s heard it before, somewhere, but the memory refused to come.

They’ve arrived, and the elevator opened with a soft _ding_. The floor was one massive open space, kind of like a salon in a Western painting, rich couches and tables with a chaos of gold adornments and fruits, vases in inconvenient places. It’s an excess without any taste. The men flanking them spread out, one taking his post by the door. Takayuki herded him further in. 

A young man was sprawled on one of the couches, probably Naoya’s age. Takayuki went to this young man immediately, hovered over his shoulder and whispered something. The young man glanced up, sneering. Despite the rich clothes and carefully groomed appearance, his attitude was juvenile. His limbs were spread to take up as much space on the couch as possible without looking like a hopeful spider, but the effect was still a little ridiculous. “ _Abel_ wants in, then?”

“Introductions should come first,” Takayuki reminded primly. The young man looked a little annoyed at the interruption, but waved a hand.

“Okay. I’m Belphegor.” The young man grinned. “Or I’m going to be anyway. My uncle says he’s found a ritual that’s going to work, so I’ll be playing host for Belphegor his whole stay here. Literally.” The carelessness was desperation then. “And you’re Abel. You don’t want to die again, so you’re going against big brother, huh? But if you don’t want to die, you shouldn’t have come here.”

The implied threat was still a little worrying, even if the one delivering it didn’t look all that dangerous. But the danger didn’t necessarily need to come from him. There were all these people here, and whoever this guy’s uncle was. The dynamics here seemed clear enough though: butler, guards, young master. 

Kazuya said, more calmly than he felt, “Not much hospitality.”

“The aesthetics is Marquis du Sade’s, what did you expect,” Belphegor said while raising his brows.

“Great,” Kazuya remarked, even more lightly. He didn’t know much about foreign literature, but he’d heard the name at least.

“Do you know what I’m talking about?” Belphegor mocked. “Like, take a boy. Carve out a horse and put him inside, and then get another horse and have the horse fuck him. Then you cut off his head. You understand?”

It’s the coarse language more than what was said. Kazuya swallowed, put off by the images they called to mind.

“Or you get a mother and daughter,” Belphegor continued. The absence of an answer seemed to have brought out amused malice in him. “Ma’s in one room and the girl’s in the next one. You tell the girl you’ll let her ma go if she can endure the pain. So she’s being all brave, and you cut off her hands, put her in a tall chair, and then tie a noose around her neck. You tie a rope on one of the legs of the chair, and then you give the end of the rope to her ma in the other room. And you tell her you’ll let her daughter go. All she needs to do is pull that rope.”

The ‘aesthetics’ of human suffering for somebody’s amusement. It’s sick. Kazuya could imagine Naoya’s face at hearing something like this, the carefully schooled dead expression. He put that up as a mask now, saw Belphegor’s expression go sour. 

Something else was clear from his story though. These people didn’t think much about promises. 

So, they were planning to summon a demon. Setting aside whether demons were real and whether one would actually appear, they have a ritual for it. The ritual would probably involve things he can’t imagine Naoya being involved in, so it’s safe to assume they’re not Naoya’s acquaintances after all. It’s a relief. But it also meant he had to find his own way out, because Naoya’s not likely to hear about this. 

“What’s with that blank look,” Belphegor muttered, scratching his head and messing his own hair. “Really, what did you come here for?”

“The master wants him to be present for the ritual,” Takayuki answered. “We’ve requested his presence ourselves.” 

“What do you hope to accomplish after he’s summoned?” Kazuya addressed Takayuki, since he seemed to know more. Belphegor cocked his head.

“That’s something the master will want to personally speak about. So, if you would…?” Takayuki gestured. Kazuya nodded and followed the man to a door at the very end, and Belphegor didn’t even add anything to their backs. When Takayuki opened the door for him, Kazuya found that it led to an office, rather normal and austere after the wealth of the hall.

The ‘master’ was a respectable-looking man in a sleek black suit. He was sitting in front of a desk with a computer. Takayuki presented Kazuya as ‘Abel-sama’ again. Taking that in quietly, the man dismissed Takayuki with a gesture.

“Let me apologize for my nephew,” the man said. “He’s been spoiled. Of course, we don’t mean _you_ any disrespect. We only want to extend a…shall we say, friendly business offer to you.”

“What do you hope to accomplish?” Kazuya repeated his earlier question.

The man stood up to pace slowly, still behind the desk. “Belphegor is the lord of wealth. And everything revolves around money now, which means he’s quite powerful, probably more powerful than any other demon. If we summon him and he wins the war, that effectively means control of the world, control of everything.” 

The man slapped a palm down on the table, his face not reflecting greed as expected, but a quiet determination. “That’s the control we’re after. I could care less about any God who only watches, but with this much power, we can eliminate poverty ourselves.”

“So that’s your goal?”

“You doubt it.” The man smiled. “Well, you must think we’re quite foolish, what with the setup we have outside. And, of course, the normal members don’t know anything about it.” The man tapped at something on his computer, and the wall behind him showed a slide. He kept tapping on a key, revealing graphs and estimates, pictures of broken houses and what seemed to be the aftermath of disasters, war-torn areas.

“Poverty is everywhere. I’ve spent time abroad, and it’s more obvious in some places than here. No one can even come close to solving it, because the whole system is working against you. Oh, there are all these people who want to help. My late wife spent the majority of her time organizing philanthropic work, funding all these programs, trying to make a difference. And she despaired, because nothing ever changed.”

Kazuya hesitated. “She killed herself?”

The man was quiet for a moment. “Ha, well that’s how it is.” He chuckled, wry. “So this is about realizing our dream. It’s her memento for this world.”

“So you want to summon a demon?”

“You sound against it,” the man remarked. Rather than being against it, Kazuya was still slightly disbelieving, but he didn’t correct the man. “Just know that I’ve deliberated about it and I’m sure this is what I want.”

“What guarantee do you have that Belphegor will show up?” Kazuya didn’t want to encourage him, but he needed to know what they were planning. And if this man was as righteous as he seemed to believe about himself, it could be that getting home would be easy.

“That’s what the room is for,” the man started to explain in the confident tones of a businessman. He sounded too fervent earlier, but he was smoothing out his persona now, smiling winningly. “It’s a tableau to attract Belphegor. The minimum needed for his appearance. As I said, he’s the lord of wealth. And unfortunately, another thing: decadence.” He tapped another key, and the wall behind him went dark.

“We can create the background easily enough, but he won’t appear unless all the requirements have been met. Debasement. Debauchery. It’s unfortunate,” the man said, and Kazuya suppressed a shiver. “But it’s a necessary sacrifice for the future. We…didn’t really think you’ll go along with it.”

The man sounded strangely apologetic and curious, as if now he was expecting Kazuya to say something, and not just cries for help or pleas to let him go. He sounded sort of respectful, too, like Takayuki, which wasn’t the strangest or most disconcerting thing when you count what they just admitted they want to do.

“You want to help people,” Kazuya said after a moment, which wasn’t really his answer. Some part of him seemed to delight in saying it though. Abel’s response, as they thought it would be. Even though that wasn’t what Abel would have said at all.

Kazuya ignored the warning tug in his mind, the thought that he couldn’t have known that.

“Is that the reason?” The man sounded surprised. “No, I guess I should have expected this from the chosen child of God. You’d forgive our methods and sacrifice yourself for good.”

“Do you plan to kill me?”

They weren’t talking about _his_ death, but the man seemed reluctant and now a little fearful. “No, no, I don’t want to attract that much attention from above. But, as a last resort….”

He meant he wasn’t sure if killing him would do anything, so he wanted to put it off until they’ve checked the other things that might work. Kazuya said, dry, “Prolonging it isn’t really being kind to me, you know.”

That was a mistake. He should have tried to find a way to gain more time, find a way to escape. Fortunately, the man only looked a little disturbed, as if it was a thought that came to him only now, but that it wasn’t something he had control over. “I’m sorry.”

“I see.” Kazuya inclined his head. “When do you plan on doing it?”

“Tonight, of course.”

\--

They held a banquet in the hall. 

There were several guests in masks and expensive clothing. Several tables were full to bursting with food. On a smaller table, set in front of Belphegor’s seat of honor, was a human body. The stomach had been hollowed out to accommodate bowls and plates of food, meats and desserts, and the limbs arranged decorously. Nobody else seemed bothered by it, but Kazuya stared, felt distaste and panic flutter in his stomach. He didn’t believe it at first, but the body seemed real, though there was only the slightly sweet smell of meat.

Belphegor pulled. Kazuya felt the tug of the chain, fought slightly to regain his balance before he went tumbling down the floor. He only managed to stop partway, arm thrown over Belphegor’s thighs, the collar biting at his neck. Belphegor sneered, and offered him a bite of meat speared on his fork, heavy with glaze. Kazuya swallowed his retort, opened his mouth obediently to be fed. Debasement, the man had said. That’s what this is about. Not complying now will lead to violence, most likely, and he still hasn’t found a way to escape. 

“Not what you thought, is it?” Belphegor said. He looked over Kazuya’s head. His gaze kept getting drawn to the circle in the middle of the room, the intricate silver lines drawn with precision. Everyone was stepping around it, always a few feet away. There’s something wrong with the air there; Kazuya felt it when he was being led past it, like the air was pressing down, heavy and expectant.

Belphegor sloshed a drink at him, something that was probably alcoholic, cool on his naked skin and trickling down between his shoulder blades. It was a foreign enough feeling that Kazuya jumped.

“Hey, I asked you a question.”

Kazuya wound the chain around one arm, keeping Belphegor from pulling on it again to upset his balance. Belphegor didn’t really wait for his answer, stared at the circle again. 

“What do you imagine will happen, after?” Kazuya asked him quietly. 

“It’s obvious, isn’t it? This is the dead end for us.” Belphegor shook his head. There was enough noise around, the guests laughing while sharing stories, that their exchange was going unnoticed. Nobody was looking at the place of honor. Even Belphegor’s uncle was scarce. He was probably trying to forget his involvement in this by staying in the other room. A decent person, in other circumstances.

“You’re looking really composed there.” Belphegor gave him a look. “What, dying again doesn’t bother you after all?”

It’s not like he wanted to die; he just didn’t consider death very seriously. He’d evaded questions from peers when some of them have started considering things like the afterlife. There’s something about the idea of death, his own death, that had always made him shy away like he was afraid of poking a bad tooth. It felt like there was something… rotten and overwhelming in a nightmare once, which Naoya — back when he was Nao-nii and a more reliable individual all around — soothed away for him. 

(“Bad dream,” he wailed as Naoya lifted the covers for him and he crawled in thankfully, not minding how Naoya was frowning. 

“What happened?”

“I was killed. It was scary.”)

He thought about that now: being killed. And before that… He tried to decide if it was scary or not, but something about it felt off, like he still didn’t think he was going to die here. Like the concept of dying was an unfinished circuit, and there was no way for him to arrive at what comes after.

“We can always run away,” Kazuya offered, and Belphegor laughed bitterly.

“You should have offered before you were naked,” he pointed out as a joke. An unfunny joke. The carpet at least meant his knees weren’t cold. “How are we even supposed to run now?”

“There’s got to be a way.”

Belphegor shook his head again, as if he was waking himself up, the heavy bob of his head alert if hopeless. 

The elevator wasn’t working. A female guest was loudly complaining, because she’d left something in her car and wanted to go back for it. A guard was trying to appease her, pointing her back to the hall. Apparently, no one was leaving until whatever they were doing here was done. The other guests didn’t raise a fuss, immersed in their own conversations.

Someone with an imp-like mask appeared and started playing a violin, a quick trill as if the violinist wanted to hurry up and finish playing. Servants in plainer masks cleared the table in front of them before the body started to smell. Kazuya watched the body disappear in a food cart. They didn’t use the elevator. Kazuya watched with interest as they wheeled the food cart to a curtained section of the hall. That meant a servant’s passage, probably. Kazuya was about to point this out when he felt Belphegor’s fingers clamping down on his upper arm.

All around them, as if there had been some sort of signal, the guests were dancing around each other coquettishly. A couple, giggling and silly with wine, crashed into one of the couches and started fumbling at each other.

Standing like a puppet on strings, Belphegor pulled him along. He wasn’t using the chain this time, but his hold didn’t give even slightly, and rather than discomfort, there was fear and a strange dart of annoyance at the contact. That disappeared too when Kazuya saw where they’re heading. It’s the circle. Belphegor pushed him into it first, as if he was reluctant to enter it himself. But soon enough, Belphegor bore down on him on the floor, the chain links clinking, digging into Kazuya’s arm where he’d stupidly looped it.

The air really felt different. Stifling and hot, and like there was more gravity at work. The violin playing was also getting annoying. The music grated even when it sounded perfectly in tune. It felt like it was pulling at his teeth. 

Kazuya tried not to react or say anything (Belphegor didn’t look like he’ll listen now). He barely felt the touches moving down his torso, like his whole body was going numb; and this is wrong, he can’t be drugged, he hadn’t eaten anything beyond that bite. But he broke when the fingers pressed lower. Belphegor was keeping his legs spread, and it was tamer than anything Kazuya had been expecting, but he still cried, “Naoya, Naoya, Naoya…”

He wasn’t even calling for the person, more like he was dangling the name in front of him like a lucky charm. 

Belphegor stopped at that, face pinched in a furious expression. He withdrew his fingers, reached in the pocket of his pressed pants instead. Kazuya was afraid of restraints, or a gag, but he produced a flick knife instead, which he opened with a quiet snick.

Kazuya was aware of movement among the guards. Running. But before they could reach, the blade plunged in the soft skin of his stomach. 

Kazuya didn’t know if Belphegor thought of it as mercy — if Kazuya couldn’t take something like that from the very beginning, he couldn’t take more, if the summoning continued not to work — or if Belphegor only thought of it as a shortcut, an abridged version of what would have happened. Either way, Kazuya can’t process much more than the pain. It’s more pain than he’d ever felt, and the earlier numbness disappeared. He might have cried out. His throat felt raw, and his eyes were open against the red pain washing over him. 

Again. The knife will descend again. But they were already pulling Belphegor away. Kazuya had his hand pressed below the wound, eyes taking in the knife sticking out. The pain wasn’t anything he could distract himself from, but he still noticed that the lines of the circle were darkening to a burnt red.

It felt, curiously, like standing still after a long run, and it was that image that came to him now. Stopping by Naoya’s new place in Aoyama, running almost the whole way there just because he can. He saw himself there, stopping at a crosswalk before the building, hands on his knees, thankful there wasn’t a lot of foot traffic at this time. Kazuya started walking more leisurely, a bag of groceries dangling from one arm as he fished out Naoya’s spare key.

There was relief like fresh air in his lungs. He reached out for his double’s shoulder, and his double turned back, looked back at him. A mirror in front of a mirror.

_(Dimly, he’s aware the knife was in fact still in his body.)_

“It was fun,” he said. Kazuya said.

“Yes, it was fun,” he agreed.

“I wanted it to be like this,” Kazuya confessed, adjusting the bag and looking down at the shiny new key. “Fun visits. Atsuro and Yuzu, too.”

“It can still be like this.”

Kazuya glanced up, quietly, in understanding and pity. But he tried not to doubt it.

“Nothing has to change,” he reminded him.

“Sure,” Kazuya said. Softly, carefully, he pocketed the key and reached for his hand.

\--

The Shomonkai arranged a car for him. Azuma showed up personally, along with the driver and one guard. It seemed woefully inadequate for a rescue mission, but Naoya hadn’t expected much from them from the beginning. 

He’d given them information about Belphegor in exchange for help; Belphegor was among the top contenders, and even without any direct orders from Belberith, the Shomonkai realized that leaving Belphegor’s faction alone was unwise. Kuzuryu’s supposed to be relaying that information to Belberith now, asking for guidance about what course of action to take. Really, it wasn’t surprising that they’re choosing to wait. They’re right to be cautious. And Naoya wasn’t going to be indebted to them; he’ll have to find some way to secure Kazuya himself, and only rely on them for transport and to open some doors.

“But why kidnap your cousin?” Azuma mused, looking concerned. “Does that mean they know you’re working on the summoning program and want it for themselves?”

He didn’t bring up Abel’s name, which made Naoya think the Maiden must have been circumspect and had not told anyone about that small bit of information yet. 

“Likely,” Naoya answered. “As for whether they have already summoned Belphegor, and Belphegor is the one giving out the orders, everything about that is conjecture at this point.” He let that sink in. Azuma looked properly anxious at the idea. Their Maiden had woken up from her coma with a stronger affinity for demon summoning. But with months still before the Shomonkai will be ready to welcome His Majesty and be in any condition to fight with demons themselves, Belphegor’s successful summoning will mean a strategic defeat for them. 

Naoya promised, falsely reassuring, “I can learn more once we reach the building.”

Azuma nodded, trusting his judgment. Of course, Naoya didn’t say he wasn’t actually sure if Belphegor’s faction even had some form of contact with Belphegor. Since he painted Belphegor as a mutual enemy with great potential, the Shomonkai would treat this seriously, and they’d be too afraid of this threat to consider that they now have Naoya’s weakness in their grasp.

If they withhold their help now, Naoya will need to promise things to them. Even if it involved Kazuya, Naoya couldn’t compromise too much.

They reached the building without incident. Naoya was impressed, seeing how thoroughly the front desk was ignoring them. Azuma and the other Shomonkai member who had stayed with them ushered Naoya quickly to a room. It was nowhere near the top floor, but Naoya didn’t need the added proximity to work. 

He tricked the building’s electronic security , pulled up camera feeds, and looped images where needed in short order. The human guards would be harder to trick, and this was where Azuma came in handy. For some reason, the power had been cut for the elevators that reached the relevant floor, so he restored it. Naoya took the time to check the video of Kazuya being led in the building by several men. He looked unharmed, but he was a little stiff. He soon switched to what had been captured by the elevator camera, watching a nondescript old man talk. Unfortunately, there was no audio to go with the images, and while he could see the old man’s face, Kazuya was facing away from the camera, so Naoya couldn’t gauge his reaction. Frustrated, Naoya didn’t try to lip-read.

The video was from a few hours ago. The interview with Kuzuryu had taken more time than Naoya had anticipated, but it was more foolish to act completely alone. At least this way, he had a bigger chance of success.

There were twelve confirmed guests. Thirteen, if he included Kazuya. The guards, servants, and then the mastermind. Too many people, really. Perhaps they could be tricked into believing he had cavalry, and it would be as easy as claiming a lost child from a police box. 

The camera with a view of the elevator suddenly showed motes of light before being lost to static. Azuma and the other Shomonkai member stared at it, the latter jumping slightly, already nervous even back in the car. Naoya grinned, because of course they would have this timing.

“I would need you two to guard this room,” Naoya said, forcing his words to sound unconcerned as he pushed himself up from his seat. “That power spike… They’re probably doing the summoning now.”

“If that’s the case, we have to go with you,” Azuma said, firming his voice. His hands were slightly shaking.

“That’s precisely why you have to stay here,” Naoya said. It was faulty reasoning, but Naoya didn’t think he’d need to push hard with them. “If their summoning is successful, and we all go up, we’d all be dead. There should be someone here to warn your Founder. On the other hand, if their summoning failed, they must be panicking, which might give me some time to get my cousin out without any of them noticing. Another person to account for is just another added variable.”

“I…I understand,” Azuma answered weakly. 

They dutifully stayed in the room. 

It’s an angel, as Naoya suspected, barring the way to the elevator. It stared at him with impassive eyes. “The One Who Resurrects,” it intoned, not even sounding disdainful, “Turn back, before it is too late.”

“What will you consider too late?” Naoya wondered aloud. “Obviously, you must be aware of what’s happening. I find it curious that you’re only stopping it when I’m already here, saving my cousin.”

“If you have come for Kazuya Minegishi, that effort is to be commended,” the angel said. “But if you are here for Abel…”

“Don’t save Abel?” Naoya translated the pause, and couldn’t help but laugh. “How deeply ironic.”

“Metatron is afraid that you will poison Abel, as once you had sought to do. Only the Lord setting his mark on Abel’s brow stopped you from corrupting your brother, and even then, ever jealous of what the Lord favors, you killed your brother to stop him from ascending. It is too late to pretend concern now.”

_Jealous of what the lord favors._ Naoya gritted his teeth against the old rage, then gave a laugh that was more a snarl. “Will you repeat that? Metatron is _afraid_?”

The angel didn’t answer.

Naoya gentled his tone, appealing to reason. This was one of the newer angels, soft and brainless as those tended to be. And like robots, they could be tricked because of their shoddy programming. But he couldn’t do that if he appeared to be a threat. “No, Metatron cannot be afraid. It’s treason to think that Metatron, the highest of the order, can be afraid of anything. Metatron must know already that nothing can corrupt my brother. Nothing I do can influence him, and if Metatron is not here to—” _take him away_ “—personally welcome him, it must mean that Metatron trusts my brother.”

“As that is the case,” the angel said after a short pause, “you understand why you must turn back.”

“I’m not an angel,” Naoya said, curbing the ever-present rage. _And my brother won’t ever be one either, you fools_. “Metatron, with the grace of God, knows everything. It’s different for mortals. We want to see proof with our own eyes, that the people we love are safe.”

“It is a weakness,” the angel helpfully pointed out, “But humans are given to such weak habits, so it is understandable. Then, I will allow you entry, and wait for you to come back after you have seen your proof.”

The angel shrank into itself, wings folding impossibly in until it was only a slight disturbance in the air, like an impossible jagged tear with edges that shimmered softly. Naoya kept himself from shaking, forced a short bow in the direction of the angel before he stepped into the elevator. Naoya kept an eye on the angel the whole time, not completely trusting it even as the elevator doors closed. But it seemed that little speech had done the trick. 

He needed a key to get to the floor where the summoning might already be underway, and he used the copy he had acquired earlier. He didn’t have much time to breathe in relief when he finally stepped out of the elevator, more alert because of the lack of guards in front. But the door, it turned out, wasn’t even locked.

When Naoya entered the room, he found Kazuya inside a spell circle, the body of a young man slumped over him. The young man didn’t appear to be dead; no visible wounds, though his eyes were open and glassy. The side of his cheek was resting on Kazuya’s shoulder, and they’re close enough another person might have thought they were about to kiss. 

Naoya only frowned and strode forward. Several feet away, he hesitated. He could hear by then that Kazuya was humming something, something that was somehow making his gut clench in reaction. It wasn’t a proper spell, but because it wasn’t a spell, it wasn’t something anyone could just guard themselves from. There are other people around the room, slumped on the ground, asleep, or with vacuous grins on their faces, peaceful. This was what _peace_ looked like. Naoya felt himself shudder.

Kazuya didn’t stop humming Abel’s sheep-shearing song. He was lazily brushing the young man’s hair, as if he wasn’t fully aware of the movement. 

“Kazuya,” Naoya called, trying to keep his voice from sounding urgent. Kazuya immediately stopped, though the people in the room didn’t stir. “We need to leave.”

Kazuya didn’t stand. “This boy,” Kazuya indicated the young man half on his lap, “might have become Belphegor. They did the summoning successfully, as you can see.”

Naoya studied what he could see of the burnt lines of the circle. The glyphs did seem to be in place. And the smell in the air, crushed flowers and burning under the smell of ozone, told him something _had_ been summoned. “What went wrong?”

“Belphegor doesn’t exist anymore.” The statement was delivered simply, as if they weren’t talking about one of the more powerful Bels. 

Naoya closed his eyes. The meaning was dreadfully, undeniably clear.

When he opened them, he saw Kazuya blinking up at him, which with him meant he was worried. With Abel, he was probably only curious about how he would react. His arms were around the young man, firm but not restrictive or protective. A hold that meant only that Abel had taken interest. For now.

“We need to leave,” Naoya repeated. Kazuya looked at him with some amusement, the serene expression so familiar it felt wrong, seeing him like that. Naoya realized, when Kazuya shifted his hold on the young man, that there was actually blood congealing on Kazuya’s side. He knelt before the circle and would have reached in to inspect the damage, except the circle rejected him with a bright, sharp snap.

“You can’t enter,” Kazuya belatedly warned.

“Obviously.” Naoya drew in a breath and tried again, with the same result. The feeling that coursed up his hand and arm at the contact wasn’t exactly pain, but like a rubber band being snapped into place, surprising him into moving his arm back. Only he couldn’t grit his teeth and ignore it, his body reacting instinctively to move away even when he made the conscious effort not to.

“The summoning isn’t complete. Nothing can enter or leave,” Kazuya worded out what he had been thinking. He tilted his head, regarding Naoya softly and with a shred of pity. “You don’t like blood, do you?”

He meant he had to kill the young man. As if to confirm this, he slid one of his hands up to the hollow behind the young man’s ear, gripping on the longish hair, his other arm snaking across the young man’s chest. The young man stared at the ceiling, still peaceful, only lazily smiling. Naoya thought back to Abel’s sheep, offering themselves in the same way. And Abel had of course been very open to taking what he needed. 

He remembered Abel, from all those ages ago, when he had first presented Naoya a coat lined with sheepskin: _“I told her she had the most perfect coat, so you had to have it, and she offered. She said she hopes you’ll be warm. She loves you, really. I’ll miss talking with her…”_

“They thought Belphegor would need a vessel, so they groomed him to be one. I don’t need one though.” The circle was still recognizing there were two inside it, so the summoning hasn’t been sealed. Kazuya gave him a look again, inquiring. “Unless you prefer—”

“No.” To his own ears, his voice sounded harsh, like he was about to lash out. Abruptly, Naoya stood up again, putting more distance between them.

Kindly, Kazuya said, “You could look away.”

Naoya didn’t even know the young man, so it shouldn’t affect him. But maybe Naoya, the part of him that was Kazuya’s older brother more than a cousin, was reacting more to seeing Kazuya like that, easily moving the body that was larger than his so he had a perfect hold on it, and just as easily and naturally snapping the man’s neck. 

Abel wasn’t familiar with cruelty. To him, the act was devoid of any malice. It was necessary, and if it was something that he decided, it was right. 

That’s how they were raised after all. As the two who reflected God’s will, they didn’t need to justify anything. That’s why Abel’s murder had been considered such a heavy sin; not only because it had no precedent, but also because Abel had not wanted to die. By killing him, Cain had rejected Abel’s will, his action having almost the same weight as murdering God.

The circle disappeared with hardly a whisper of wind. Kazuya put the body down and stood, the movement enough to get the wound on his side bleeding again. Idly, as if he was just now realizing it, Abel put his hand against the wound. The edges of his hand glowed with a faint light, and when he put his hand down, the wound was gone under the smear of blood.

Wordlessly, Naoya took off his coat and handed it to Kazuya. Kazuya shook his head, amused, and walked deeper into the room instead, to a door hidden behind heavy drapes. He was gone for a few minutes that stretched on, tense and silent. Naoya felt like kicking some of the people on the floor, if only to see a reassuringly normal and predictable action from them. Kazuya returned in his school uniform, and announced, quietly miffed, a bit more like himself, “I couldn’t find my underwear.”

“Because that’s something I needed to know, brother.” The words came easily somehow, as if he needed that proof of Kazuya in Abel, too. He wondered idly if Abel had predicted that, and if getting the uniform back was calculated, to recreate the cousin that Naoya was less lost interacting with right then. Abel was the type to simply follow his instincts though, so Naoya could pretend that Abel hadn’t done something to control how he reacted.

“Well, you didn’t need to know. But…”

“I wouldn’t have been able to tell either. But now I know.”

“Please wipe it from your memory then.” 

Kazuya’s hand absently traced a thread sticking out from the button near his middle. “And…” He hesitated. “About this…”

Naoya tensed, and watched Kazuya notice him tense. Kazuya looked briefly hurt and then resigned, his face carefully schooled into a non-expression, which did a lot to prod Naoya into swallowing the suspicion and nodding instead for Kazuya to continue.

“There might be…complications.”

“You’d need magnetite,” Naoya said, feeling almost cross because that part of the program was still far from complete. Loki’s been making his unwelcome appearance here and there, but from how he understood it, Loki could go without killing humans or demons for months because of the work he did in Kabuki-cho. He’s been doing it for several lives already, except for that brief stint when Loki had decided he wanted his food to come strictly from blood and death, just to remember the difference. 

He couldn’t ask Kazuya to take the same route. Theoretically, Naoya could channel thoughts and emotions into energy once he completed the system, so any summoned demon wouldn’t need to find its own steady supply of magnetite to remain in this world. He’d also need to run tests to see how much magnetite Kazuya needed now, or even how much of him was a demon, strictly speaking.

“Not about that,” Kazuya said, easily dismissing that very valid concern. But then, Abel had just killed a man. Naoya didn’t know how much magnetite that translated as, but he probably didn’t need any in the immediate future. Kazuya craned his neck to look uncertainly at a door set at the far end of the hall.

“The person in charge?” Naoya asked. He felt almost glad when Kazuya nodded, the confirmation giving him something else to think about, a different person to comfortably blame for this business. Kazuya’s show of diffidence was a little puzzling though, and Naoya realized the reason. He frowned disapprovingly. “He shared his plan with you.” _And now you’re considering it_.

After a moment, Kazuya took his eyes away from the door to look back at Naoya with an almost guilty expression. “I’m not planning on helping him of course.”

“Aren’t you.”

Kazuya sighed. “He was doing it for a good cause.” He was probably finding it hard to reconcile that with whatever had happened here. Naoya shrugged, at once relieved and annoyed that his cousin’s naivety had survived the experience.

“All of them think they’re doing something good,” Naoya told him flatly, thinking of the Shomonkai with their quiet fanaticism. The Shomonkai had a proper Maiden at least, and these people didn’t seem to really know what they were doing. Except Kazuya had said the summoning was successful. Naoya scanned the room again, taking longer this time as his gaze lingered on various items and people with distaste. These people could pose a problem later, if they were allowed to leave here. 

“Do you think you can work with him?” 

The hopeful question made Naoya blink, and then he was saying, mouth pulling into a grin, part-hurt, part-malice, “No.” Kazuya didn’t look too surprised, though he nodded almost solemnly, accepting it.

“You’re not going to push it?”

“If you wanted an alliance,” Kazuya said, “he might be convinced to listen to you. But if it was only me, it might be impossible. I…” He saw Kazuya force himself to look beyond Naoya, at the corpse with the broken neck. “That was his nephew.”

“Surprising you’d even think of it then,” Naoya said, mood souring when that only made him think of Abel’s neck under his hand, the pulse jumping against his fingers. Kazuya didn’t bring it up though, although technically that was his last meeting with Abel. 

“Do you have a plan?” Kazuya asked.

“Get you out of here, obviously,” Naoya said, looking away so he could ignore the look Kazuya was throwing his way at that, the wide eyes and lightly flushed cheeks. “But this could be a problem. They’re well-connected.”

It was going to be a nightmare to take care of, and he wasn’t sure the Shomonkai’s influence would be enough to cover this up. Assuming they had time to cover up anything. Kazuya rocked back on his heels. He wasn’t wearing shoes, Naoya noted idly. Though he’d somehow still found his headphones. 

All the people around remained quiet. Presumably, the man beyond that door had been affected, too. Naoya didn’t move towards the door though, because he still felt that urge to strangle the man, and he might act on that feeling if he saw him. It wouldn’t be a very dignified fight. Instead, Naoya considered their options. 

“Turning this into a multiple murder case? The reporters might enjoy that, especially if they find out about these particular victims’ secrets. Messy though, and we would get dragged in. Mass disappearances, where we pretend they’re missing but we really kill them? Similar results.” 

“There’s an easy way out,” Kazuya murmured, trailing his fingers down to Naoya’s hand and squeezing it briefly. “I think I can call someone. Erase their memories of this.”

“It would only be a temporary solution.” But it did seem to be the simplest, so in the end, Naoya conceded. He watched Kazuya, feeling his amusement grow as Kazuya tried snapping his fingers, only for nothing to happen. Finally, Kazuya went back to the spell circle, picked up the discarded knife, and after a moment’s hesitation, nicked his own finger. He wrote a different glyph on the floor with his bloody finger. ‘Mouth,’ Naoya translated. As far as summoning spells went, this was as simple and friendly as an open window. Kazuya added another glyph for ‘memory,’ stipulating who was welcome. 

Given the lack of obvious restrictions, it wasn’t surprising that something chose to appear almost immediately, though it cowered at the steady thrum of power from Kazuya. Then of course it gave way to greed. Its shadowy form darted from one person to the next, making snatching motions above their heads until it had coaxed the threads of memory to appear and snapped them. 

Naoya felt that the demon was taking more than was needed, but he didn’t say anything. It didn’t really matter to him if some of the people here woke up with the last six months or a year blank. He watched until the demon disappeared under the door of the closed room. Then he watched Kazuya, who had tensed when he’d seen where the demon was going.

Finally, the demon returned to lap up Kazuya’s blood. It was its reward for its service, but Naoya clenched his fingers, wanting to pry it loose. He ignored the damning impulse and spoke instead. “Another factor is the Shomonkai’s involvement. I’ve already involved them…”

“The Shomonkai,” Kazuya said, “are supporting Belberith.”

Unhurriedly, the demon melted into the floor, leaving a stain like a greasy footprint. Six toes, Naoya noted idly. 

Kazuya drew another glyph, but Naoya wasn’t looking at it. Something wriggled out of the door Kazuya had opened, making its meandering way to the spell circle where the young man’s body was. Slowly, the body disappeared into the mass, a few inches at a time, with sometimes the snapping of bone. Then the demon started to pad along on all fours. _Erasing any traces of us_ , Naoya realized, when it started to kiss and lick at invisible marks on the floor, not just the blood. 

Kazuya was watching him, wholly Abel for now, though his words earlier hadn’t exactly been an accusation. Before Abel could ask questions, or make a misguided, magnanimous offer of his life, Naoya admitted testily, “I’ve been using them.”

He saw Abel react to that, ridiculously open and _flattered_. Naoya ignored that look, too, bringing up their other more immediate concern. “And there’s already an angel in this building.”

“They can’t openly make a move though, can they? The War of Bel hasn’t officially begun. They don’t have anything to stop or blame on humans yet.”

“They’re already blaming me,” Naoya remarked. Kazuya would have simply shrugged, smiled, would have innocently said he probably deserved it. But maybe the joke was too close to the truth. Abel didn’t say anything, just moved closer to him and allowed Naoya to straighten his uniform. Naoya hummed in thought, allowing the familiarity to lull him back to calm.

At this point, Metatron must already know that something is wrong. Abel wasn’t reacting negatively to Naoya’s presence as expected. But as Abel pointed out earlier, the angels could only act once humans have already made a choice, to preserve their conceit of righteousness. And then, with a start, Naoya realized that they might now base their actions on _his_ choice, because Kazuya, Abel, was here as one of the demon contenders for the throne. It might have been different if he’d made the choice first as a human, but they won’t approach him now.

Abel seemed to have followed his train of thought. “They’ll try to woo you,” he said. “Maybe with forgiveness.” The light way he said it didn’t quite cushion the blow, and Naoya felt the old bitterness well up. Forgiveness. Even Abel was expecting him to come running for it. Except when Naoya opened his mouth with a denial, Kazuya immediately pressed his hands over Naoya’s lips, almost panicked. 

“Nao-nii,” Kazuya said. “I want… I’ll follow you. I want to win. But don’t tell me yet what you want. Don’t tell anyone, until this is over.”

“That’s how you’d put off the danger?” And in the meantime, the angels would keep tabs on them and everyone. With one contender for the throne here, the war might come sooner. There would be a massacre unless he finished his work with the Shomonkai on time, and maybe even then. Kazuya might ask him to spread the demon-summoning program to more people, to ensure more survivors. That was probably even why he wanted the cooperation of Belphegor’s faction: they needed money. 

“I might be influenced,” Kazuya said, laughing slightly at how ridiculous that must sound even for him. “You know, if someone wanted me to work for Heaven. Earlier, you said you’d get me out of here. I’ve already made _my_ choice.”

Why was it so easy for him to trust? Apparently it wasn’t just Naoya, because he was also willing to work with the leader of Belphegor’s faction. Naoya shook his head ruefully, but didn’t resist when Kazuya attached himself to his side, fingers pressing briefly against the inside of Naoya’s elbow before letting go. Naoya kept him close with a hand on his shoulder, walking with him back to the elevator. 

Kazuya didn’t resist, so Naoya assumed that meant they could leave the demon that was studiously cleaning up after them. It was scarily convenient, and Kazuya was being casual about it. He imagined Loki must employ the same methods, because even when his magnetite-hunting became “a bit messy,” in his words, his human persona had never been caught.

Naoya hoped the angel wouldn’t still be below.

“You know, the Shomonkai receives huge donations.” Belphegor’s faction wasn’t necessary at all. He wanted to reassure Kazuya of that, some childish impulse to justify his sulk. With Abel here, he wouldn’t need the songstress’ help to complete the program, so he could probably convince the Shomonkai to give him more funding.

“They even have a Maiden,” Naoya continued. 

“Are you just bragging about your workplace?” Kazuya asked with a small irritated twitch, and Naoya chuckled.

The angel in fact had waited, materializing only briefly to confirm their presence before disappearing in a snap of power that left a raw feeling along Naoya’s arms. Kazuya made no comment, only followed Naoya to the room where he’d left Azuma and the other Shomonkai member. They were still there when he opened the door, Azuma pacing nervously and stopping when he saw Naoya. Relief spread quickly over his features.

“You found your… your cousin.” Azuma gave Kazuya the briefest of looks, probably seeing nothing more than a slightly disheveled teenager with a creased uniform. He probably didn’t even notice Kazuya didn’t have shoes, because he was looking at Naoya again. “And… the demon?”

“Fortunately for us, something went wrong when they were summoning Belphegor.” Naoya paused, feeling a perverse satisfaction from seeing Azuma’s convulsive swallow. “He ate his summoner.”

“Ah.” Azuma forced out a nod, folded his hands in front of him in a show of steady calm. “I imagine that is what happens, if the methods you use are not properly researched.”

“Yes,” Naoya said, his amusement only growing. Then he set it aside. “This has been creatively inspiring. I think I have an idea about how to complete the program now.” He waited for that to penetrate, for Azuma’s look to subtly change to tamped down greed.

“The other guests have passed out,” Naoya reported. “I extricated my cousin before things could grow worse, but is this going to be a problem for the Shomonkai?”

Kazuya pulled at Naoya’s sleeve and whispered, loud enough for Azuma to overhear: “They had a body, back there. Its stomach was…”

Azuma nodded more forcefully, concerned now with covering up everything because of Naoya’s bait. “We’ll give a tip then. The police would find the body. They’d probably find drugs at the scene, too. It’s the sort of thing you can expect from _this crowd_.” Azuma sniffed, and added, warmly, “Don’t worry, we’ll ensure that neither you nor your cousin would be involved in this.”

“Thank you,” Kazuya said. Naoya inclined his head, and next accepted the offered ride.

He sent Atsuro a short mail explaining that he’d gotten Kazuya back. Predictably, that didn’t appease Atsuro, who called Naoya’s phone not thirty seconds later and demanded to speak with Kazuya. Kazuya had stiffened beside him, nervous and guilty, before accepting the phone and allowing Atsuro to shout at him. Naoya could hear Atsuro’s voice clearly even without his ear pressed against the phone, scolding Kazuya for falling for something a grade schooler would have questioned.

The silence later when Kazuya finally disconnected the call was a warm one, Kazuya smiling softly as if getting berated for stupidity was somehow enjoyable. And here Naoya had been planning on teasing him about it. 

Naoya looked at the changing view outside. At one point, Kazuya slept, listing to the side until his head thumped against the glass of the car window. Naoya huffed out a breath and pulled him to his side instead. Kazuya was very softly snoring, like the low motor-purr of a kitten. Hopefully he wouldn’t be out too long, or Naoya would need to carry him up to his apartment, and Kazuya was already too big for that. 

Kuzuryu Amane, even with her training and aptitude, had fallen into a healing coma to deal with the stress of housing a demon in her body and fighting one of the devas. Naoya ignored the slight fear that Kazuya would take that long to wake as well. When he got back, he would really need to run tests. 

The car swerved sharply to avoid a man on the street. The driver made some sort of exclamation, slowing the car down and then hesitantly moving faster instead of stopping when the man only nonchalantly waved at them after crossing the street. Naoya met Loki’s eyes briefly, Loki smiling widely as usual. Naoya imagined Loki skipping all the way back to the establishment he worked at, buoyed up by his amusement for the rest of the week. 

_Heh._ Naoya himself chuckled briefly, looking up and leaning back, letting Kazuya’s weight settle more heavily against his side. 

The coming war was, of course, going to be simple entertainment for Loki. But Naoya could use that, might even need to ask Loki for a favor, couched in terms that would make the favor seem diverting enough that Loki would be willing to do it. He would need to trick the Shomonkai, too. Or more accurately, continue to trick them. Perhaps he should bring in Atsuro to help with the programming. 

How much of the predicted scenario would change because of this? After the War of Bel would be the war against the angels, though Kazuya wanted him to make a real choice later. Didn’t Abel already know he couldn’t be trusted with choices?

Naoya gritted his teeth, feeling some of the enjoyment of planning ebbing away. 

_At the very least, perhaps a choice where we would both be together and alive._ A choice like that meant running away from the war. But then, Kazuya had said he wanted to win. Not running away then, at least not until after they’ve won. 

But after, what? “Well, that’s after,” Naoya imagined Kazuya saying, practical and unhurried. “Stop overthinking it, Nao-nii.”

Naoya settled more comfortably back. He looked at his sleeping cousin and sighed, allowed himself only a short moment of weakness to card his fingers through Kazuya’s hair and pat his head.

In a thousand years, he’s never imagined getting Abel back.

And now, Kazuya had promised him this. Not a brother, exactly. Kazuya and Abel at the same time, by his side for whatever choice he was going to make. And however foolishly, Naoya felt the need to be worthy of it.

It was troublesome. It was annoying.

He was already looking forward to it.


End file.
